


Up for Anything

by tuesday



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistakenly Believes They're Just a Rebound, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pining, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: When it came to Tony Stark, Peter would take what he could get.In which Peter believes he's just a rebound.  (Not Endgame compliant.)





	Up for Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> I wrote this for the tag: "Rebound Relationship - Character mistakenly believes they're just a rebound." I may have also looked over your smut swap letter and incorporated some likes from there and elsewhere.
> 
> This is not Endgame compliant. It diverges in some way that brings back Peter et al following Infinity War, but does not include any number of Endgame things. 
> 
> Thank you to Duckmoles for all your help! 
> 
> Redating for reveals. This was originally posted 5/6, though the collection didn't open until 5/20. Sorry if you managed to see it twice!

When it came to Tony Stark, Peter would take what he could get.

Sometimes, that was a lot. The first Spider-Man suit made by Tony was worth millions of dollars and priceless for the time and effort it represented. The second? Peter had no idea. He didn’t think anyone did except for Tony himself. It was one of a kind, a nanotech marvel matched only by the Mark 50 Tony had made for his own personal use.

Sometimes, it wasn’t as much as Peter would like. Tony encouraged him to use S.I. lab space in the city to work on his suit, get familiar with it, maybe make some _highly supervised_ changes, but Tony wasn’t always around unless Peter scheduled supervision for some of those changes. Occasionally, Tony would check in on Peter when he was patrolling, but that was even rarer. Peter saw Tony more than most people, but it wasn't every day or even every week, necessarily. Tony was a busy man, and Peter was only one part of his life.

The point was, Peter would take it, whatever he could get. So after Tony’s latest, very final, break-up with Pepper Potts, when Tony seemed like he might be interested in a brief rebound, no-strings, just two people who were attracted to each other having a good time, yes, Peter went for it. Of course he went for it. He would take what he could get, even when what he could get was something meaningless and physical.

“Oh, this is a bad idea,” Tony said, but he was kissing Peter as he said it, kiss after fervent kiss, hands against Peter’s waist, pulling Peter firmly against him.

“It’s a great idea. Best idea I’ve had all day.” Peter swiped away the tools behind him to clear room on the workbench. There was a clatter as most of them landed on the floor.

“I just saw your plans for putting web shooters on the waldoes. Trust me, the bar is not set that high.”

Whatever. Peter’s idea was great. Tony was probably mad he hadn’t thought of it first. Peter’s professional outrage was greatly dampened by his personal need to pull off every piece of Tony’s clothes. Tony was on board with this plan, at least, shrugging off his blazer and abandoning it on the lab’s concrete floor. Peter followed it with his own shirt.

Tony paused to stare. Peter might have felt self-conscious if not for how awed, how reverent, Tony looked. Tony reached a hand out and traced the line of Peter’s sternum, dipping down to his abs. He ducked his head forward and pressed a kiss right over Peter’s heart. It was killing Peter how gentle Tony was being. Peter got his hands under the hem of Tony’s shirt.

“Your turn,” Peter said pointedly.

Tony obediently stripped his shirt, too, and then his pants when Peter fumbled at those, until they were both naked in the lab, and Tony belatedly ordered, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock it down. No one is allowed access until Peter or I give the order.”

“Are the security cameras recording?” Peter asked, but the thought wasn’t enough to stop him from kneeling down in front of Tony and pressing a kiss to his hip.

“Do you want them to be?” Tony asked. “Because I can tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn them off, but either way, this is one of my personal labs. No one else can access the feeds.”

“If there’s a recording, then I get a copy,” Peter said. Then his mouth was too full to say anything else.

“That’s fair.” There was a note of strain to Tony’s voice. His hands migrated into Peter’s hair. “That’s very fair. Just don’t sell it. Or if you do, hold out for at least a mil. It’s been awhile since my last sex tape leaked. Not since I became Iron Man. Pretty sure the price went up.”

Peter pulled off to say, “I’m not selling our sex tape.”

“Personal use only, huh?” Tony’s eyes were soft. He stroked at Peter’s hair. “Not that I don’t appreciate seeing you kneeling at my feet, and I definitely liked what you were doing—pretty sure you could feel how much I liked that—but you did just knock a bunch of expensive tools to the floor. I assume it was for a purpose. Did you want to have sex on the workbench?”

Yes, Peter wanted to have sex on the workbench.

They had sex on the workbench, Tony digging up lubricant that was safe for human use. There weren’t any condoms, and maybe it was stupid, but Peter said, “ _Please_ ,” pouring every bit of the desperation and longing and need he felt into his voice when Tony hesitated.

“Bad, bad idea,” Tony said, but he kissed Peter again anyway, not letting his obvious doubts stop him. He opened Peter up and then fucked him, barebacked and irresponsible and almost everything Peter had ever wanted.

“I can’t believe—” Tony said, then, “How are you so—?” then, “Oh, kid, you’re amazing.  I could do this forever.”

Peter felt full, overwhelmed. Not just the sex. His chest—his heart—was filled to bursting with everything he was feeling. His eyes welled up, but Tony had his own closed, so that was okay. No one could see Peter blinking back tears as Tony buried his face in Peter’s neck and gave it to him, gave everything he could, everything he was capable of right now. It wasn’t quite everything Peter wanted from him, but it was a lot. It was more than enough. Peter would take it all.

“Mr. Stark, I—” Peter cut himself off, took that emotional declaration and buried it six feet deep.

Tony stiffened his whole body over, and for an instant, Peter thought Tony had caught it in Peter’s voice, was about to let Peter down gently in the middle of the fucking of his life, but what Tony said was, “I guess that’s a thing. Learn something new every day. Say it again.”

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony groaned. “All this time, I’ve been trying to get you to call me by my first name, and—fuck. Keep calling me that.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter repeated and was rewarded with another thrust. “Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark.”

Peter clutched at Tony’s back, babbling his name, as Tony went harder, as Tony sucked at the side of his neck, as Tony wrapped a hand around Peter and brought him off in rhythm with Tony’s thrusting hips. Peter held on until he couldn’t anymore, orgasm washing over him and sweeping him away with it.

Tony didn’t last much longer, rhythm dropping, erratic, fumbling and clumsy at the end. He collapsed on Peter after. His chest was heaving. His face was red. He was sweaty and disheveled and ridiculously attractive.

“Just so you know,” Tony said breathlessly, “I’m not changing my mind about the waldoes.”

“I almost don’t care anymore,” Peter said. He looked up at the ceiling and the bright lab lights. “Pretty sure I could be persuaded not to care at all.”

“Are you telling me,” Tony asked, eyes gone sharp with interest as he pushed himself upright, “that you can already go again?”

Peter smiled, lopsided, unaccountably shy. “Maybe. Want to see?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

And Tony did. Two more times.

“We’re going to explore this properly later,” Tony said some time later, zipping up his pants, “but I really do need to get back to work.” He ducked his head to peck Peter on the corner of his mouth. “This was fun. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

“In the lab?” Peter asked.

“If that’s what you want.” Tony grabbed his shirt. “Or we could grab dinner, then go back to mine.”

It sounded like a date. Peter wanted it to be a date.

“We never got the chance to go over the rest of your proposed changes.” Tony’s expression was too casual to be asking Peter on a date. He didn’t look like he cared at all as he said, “Or not. You could always shoot me an e-mail.”

“Dinner sounds good.” Peter smiled weakly. “What time?”

“I’ll let you know. Maybe F.R.I.D.A.Y. will. Someone will let you know. I’m pretty booked. I’ll have to move some stuff around.” Tony shrugged on his blazer and patted down his hair. He put on a pair of purple aviator glasses. On his end, now that he’d had a chance to catch his breath, it looked like nothing much had happened, like maybe he’d just taken the stairs too fast. “There’s a private bathroom on this floor if you want to clean up some more.”

He kissed Peter one last time. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., if you could get the door? Lock it behind me until Peter’s done here.”

Tony walked out. He didn’t look back.

If he had, he’d have seen Peter, who was sitting on the workbench next to a cloth Tony had unearthed from somewhere. Peter, who was naked and sweaty and sticking to the workbench’s metal surface, hair a bird’s nest. Peter, who had traces of Tony’s come on his thighs and in his ass. Peter, who buried his shaky smile in his hands and, brimming over with emotion, tried his best not to cry.

This was what he’d wanted. This was still what he wanted. He’d take what he could get. It was better than nothing. It was more than he thought he’d ever have the chance at getting at all.

Peter let himself be a mess for a full five minutes. Then he straightened, wiped at his face, and pulled on his clothes. He pulled himself together. He went home, because a sink bath sounded far less appealing than an actual shower.

~~

Peter got a call from Tony, who said, “Did you want a ride?”

“Is this a metaphor?”

Tony paused. “It could be. Actually, yes, it’s a metaphor now. I’m taking one of the self-driving cars. I’ll remember the condoms this time.”

Tony greeted Peter with a kiss outside his building. “You look nice.”

Peter had thrown on a suit even though he knew it wasn’t a date. Maybe Tony would want to eat somewhere nice. Peter knew Tony could get them in anywhere no matter what he wore, but he didn’t want to be underdressed. Turned out he should’ve been worried about being overdressed, because Tony was in jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Did you still want a ride?” Tony asked.

“Very much,” Peter said. He hooked his fingers in Tony’s belt loops. “Still up for giving me one?”

“Oh, I am definitely up for it.” Tony glanced over Peter’s shoulder, back at the apartment building. “Question is: do you want that ride on the way to the restaurant—or before it?”

“On the way.” Peter pressed a kiss just under Tony’s ear. “I’m starving.”

They sat in the back, seatbelts off, Tony’s jeans around his ankles as Peter rode him most of the trip over. Peter had taken off his suit jacket, but Tony had pulled him forward by the tie and said, “Leave the rest on. You look nice. I want to appreciate it properly.”

It was awkward. Peter’s dress pants were going to be hopelessly wrinkled. Peter sat with his back to Tony’s chest as Tony rocked up into him. Peter braced himself against the ceiling and the window as he pushed back.

Tony had an arm wrapped around Peter’s waist. He worked Peter over thoroughly, methodically, as he said, “That’s it. You’re so, you’re so good at this. You take it so well.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “Please, I—I—”

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Tony said. He pressed a kiss gentle, gentle, against the side of Peter’s neck, nosing at his hairline. “I’ve got you.” Almost brokenly, “You’re _so good_.”

Peter came all over his dress shirt.

~~

Peter ended up shedding the dress shirt and trading jackets with Tony. Tony drew the dress jacket on over his t-shirt, and Peter pulled the leather over his undershirt.

“And you were worried you’d be overdressed.” Tony’s eyes were dark as he looked Peter up and down. “I like you in leather. You should wear my clothes more often.”

“It’s not enough I wear something you designed every time I go out as Spider-Man?” Peter asked as he uselessly tried to smooth the wrinkles in his pants.

“Oh, that’s nice, but it’s really not the same.” Tony fixed the collar of the jacket. They got out of the car, and Tony leaned over on the walk in, said in a low murmur, “When we’re done with dinner, I’m going to strip you down to just that jacket and fuck you in it.” He pulled back, smile slight, casual, like they were discussing the weather. “If you’re amenable.”

“If I—yeah. _Yes_.” Peter tripped on the curb, and Tony reached out, steadied him with a hand at his hip and another at his back. “I am—I am very amenable.”

“Careful,” Tony said.

But with Tony’s hands on his body, Tony’s promises echoing in his ears, Peter was finding it difficult to be careful. He was finding it impossible to guard his heart. Tony had been right the first time. This was a bad idea.

Peter was going to see it through to its inevitable messy ending and enjoy every second along the way.

~~

They sat in a booth next to the main bar, all the way at the back. Tony crowded in after Peter instead of sitting across from him. They ordered burgers, and Tony got a beer, something the attached brewery produced. They talked about Peter’s proposed changes to the suit that had fallen by the wayside yesterday in favor of the best sex of Peter’s life.

Partway through the meal, Tony shrugged off Peter’s jacket and said, “It’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot in here? Hold this for me, would you?”

Tony shoved the jacket into Peter’s lap, then followed that up with his left hand, snaking under the fabric to rub Peter through the thin wool of his dress pants. With his right, he picked up a fry and took a bite.

“What—?” Peter’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. In a desperate whisper, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Tony’s smile had teeth. “Eating dinner. Now, tell me more about the new web formula.”

“I—” Peter’s hands were clenched in the jacket, pulling it out of shape. “Mr. Stark, I—”

Tony paused in easing down the zipper of Peter’s pants. “Only if you want to.”

Peter couldn’t help the hysterical note to his laugh. “You know me, sir.” Tony’s face did a thing at that “sir,” something dark and hungry passing over it before it went blank. “I’m up for anything.”

“I do know you,” Tony said as he opened up Peter’s pants and picked up another fry. “What I don’t know is what makes this new formula superior to what you’re already using.”

“First of all, I don’t—” Peter swallowed as Tony got a hand around him, started slowly stroking. “I don’t know that I would say superior. Different, definitely.”

“So why the change?” Tony’s upper body was still, relaxed. His upper arm barely moved. If Peter hadn’t personally felt Tony rubbing his palm over the head of his dick, collecting the pre-come and spreading it around, Peter would have sworn he wasn’t moving at all.

“It degrades faster,” Peter explained. “It’s better for swinging, won’t leave as much of a, of a mess.” His voice went high on the word “mess.” Tony’s grip was tighter as he returned to jerking Peter off, the strokes faster. “I thought it would make it easier to clean up.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” Tony said softly. His smile was sweet. “And so smart. The original formula was brilliant, but the variations you’ve come up with have been inspired.” Tony twisted his wrist with the next down-stroke. “Very versatile.”

“I, ah, I like being flexible.” Peter was dying. This was heaven; it was hell. Tony was absolutely without mercy.

“I like you being flexible, too,” Tony said. “Later tonight, I think I’m going to like it very, very much.”

Tony asked some more questions about the new formula. Peter answered them as best he could when almost the entirety of his concentration was taken up by keeping his hips still, trying not to buck up into Tony’s hand. Every word spoken was on automatic. Pleasure curled tight in his gut, and Peter clapped a hand over his mouth as he tried desperately to hold back a moan. Tony took a break from jerking him off to play with his balls.

The bar area was dark. They were seated in the corner. Peter didn’t think anyone could see the flush heating his face, the sweat prickling on his skin and gathering at his temples, the way he clenched his hands into fists when Tony returned his hand to Peter’s dick. Tony cleared his plate, but Peter hadn’t been able to take another bite.

“I should take you to dinner more often,” Tony said. “Scintillating conversation, intellectual stimulation—” Something was being stimulated, all right. “—a handsome face I could spend all night staring at.  What’s not to love?”

At the word “love,” Peter couldn’t stifle a helpless whimper. Tony leaned over and pressed his lips to Peter’s cheek. He moved his mouth to Peter’s ear, lips brushing against it with every syllable spoken. His breath was warm. The first puff of air caused every hair on Peter’s body to stand on end.

“You look amazing like this, trying to hold back. I’d have you like this every night if I could.  Would you like that, Peter? Kept right on the edge, no one else knowing what I’m doing to you? I can’t believe how wet you’re getting, pre-come leaking all over my hand. Pretty sure you’ve wrecked your jacket.” Tony swiped his tongue across the cartilage of Peter’s ear. “I’m going to take you home and I’m going to wreck _you_.”

The server came up to check on them, and Tony abruptly stopped. Peter bit his lip and tried to look like someone who hadn’t been a few more strokes or a few more words from coming all over his dress jacket and pants in public.

“I’ll take the bill.” Tony’s face showed nothing of what they’d been doing. “He’ll take a box.”

“Be right back,” the server said.

Tony tucked Peter back in. He wiped his hand on one of the disposable napkins. His smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Yeah, it’s definitely hot in here. I’ll let you hold onto that jacket.”

“Thanks,” Peter said through gritted teeth.

“You’re welcome.” Tony put his arm up on the back of the booth, practically around Peter’s shoulders. “How long do you think she’ll be with that box?”

~~

“So how flexible are you?” Tony asked. They were in his penthouse, and Tony had made good on the promise to strip Peter to just the leather jacket, but he hadn’t pushed it further than that yet.

“Super flexible,” Peter said. “Literally. It’s one of my superpowers.”

Tony’s expression was speculative. “Flexible enough to suck your own dick?”

Peter’s cheeks burned. “I, ah, I haven’t ever tried?”

“You’re telling me that you’ve had enhanced flexibility since you were fourteen years old and you never once tried it, just to see if it was possible?” Tony’s tone was disbelieving.

“I kind of had other concerns.” In hindsight, Peter couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried it, either.

“Right. Let’s fix that. Get on the bed. Left side.” Peter got on the bed, and Tony padded up alongside it. He put a hand to Peter’s back, right between his shoulder blades. “Lean forward.”

Peter leaned forward. He got close. He was hard and getting harder, dick brushing against his chin. He could probably make it on his own, but he stopped moving, mind blank, feeling the stretch of his muscles, the leather around his upper body, Tony’s hand pressing lightly against his back. From up close, he could see pre-come bead up as he reacted to the moist heat of his own breath.

“Peter.” Tony’s voice was low, rough. “Lick.”

Peter licked at the head of his own dick, and it was—it was—

Peter moaned helplessly, and Tony increased the pressure of his hand, helped Peter go down a little further.

“Suck it,” Tony said.

Peter opened his mouth as Tony pushed him down, then closed it around himself. He sucked.

“You’re amazing,” Tony said. “Tap out if you want to stop.” His hand pushed down, down, and Peter took himself further into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. “Fuck, that’s so—”

Tony withdrew his hand, but Peter found it wasn’t that much of a stretch after all. He thought, darkly amused, _At least when it’s all over, you’ll still have this. The knowledge that yes, you can blow yourself._ Tony was always teaching him something new, but never like this.

“Think you could do that while I fuck you?” Tony asked.

Peter pulled off. “I—how would that even work?”

“Standing’s probably easiest.” Tony took a step back. His smile was inviting. “What do you say?”

Peter swung his legs into the space Tony had opened up. Peter repeated himself from dinner. “You know me, sir.” Peter was watching for it this time, caught the flash of lust at that word. “Still up for anything.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Tony pulled him up and into a kiss. “I’ll try not to take advantage.”

“Oh, no.” Peter’s smile was wide, fierce. “Please take advantage of me, sir.”

“Okay,” Tony stroked Peter’s cheek, “now I’m not sure who is taking advantage of whom.”

“Maybe it’s mutual.” Peter certainly felt like he was getting more out of this than Tony had signed up for.

Tony’s kiss was gentle. “Kid, it is definitely mutual.”

Then he bent Peter over and fucked him while Peter sucked his own dick.

~~

“Did you want to spend the night?” Tony asked much, much later, having also made good on his promise to explore Peter’s shortened refractory period. Hope that this could be something more than just sex had barely started to sink its teeth in when Tony added, “Maybe we could get a quickie in in the morning. I have an eight o’clock meeting, but I can set the alarm earlier.”

“Yeah.” Peter buried his face in Tony’s shoulder so Tony couldn’t see his expression; so Peter wouldn’t have to look at him. “That sounds nice.”

“We don’t have to,” Tony said. He rubbed Peter’s back. “You could just spend the night, sleep in. I could have F.R.I.D.A.Y. wake you whenever you need.”

“I want to,” Peter said. It was true. Peter wanted everything Tony could give him. It was just a sad fact of life that he wanted more than Tony could give him, too.

“Okay. Hear that, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Wake me twenty—no, thirty minutes early.” Tony’s voice was soft, satisfied. He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head. His breathing slowed, deepened.

Face pressed to Tony’s shoulder, Peter stayed awake for a long, long time.

~~

In the morning, Tony kissed Peter over and over again, long, slow, lazy.

“Don’t you have a meeting?” Peter asked.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., cancel my eight o’clock.” Tony rolled his hips against Peter’s, but there was no sense of urgency. “And my nine o’clock. Whatever’s on the docket for the day. Cancel it.”

“You have a lunch meeting with Ms. Potts.”

“Then cancel whatever’s before that.”

Peter had felt warm, sleepy, something like content. Waking up to Tony’s body cuddled against his own had felt like a dream. Now, he was hit with a shock of cold, like he was in the shower and all the hot water had cut off. The intrusion of reality was sudden, unwelcome.

“You should go to your meeting.” Peter nudged gently at Tony.

Tony moved so Peter could sit up, but he was frowning. “It’s not that important.”

“You have already rescheduled this meeting twice,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed Tony.

“See? It can’t be that important.” Tony traced the line of Peter’s collarbone.

“It’s with a representative of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.”

“Okay, it’s fairly important,” Tony admitted. “But it can wait.”

“Go to your meeting,” Peter said. “I have class in a couple hours anyway.”

“We’ve got ten more minutes.” Tony kissed Peter’s jaw. “And I can be late. People expect that of me. They factor it in. I’d hate to disappoint them.”

“Ten minutes, huh?” Maybe it was petty and immature, a sign of his age, but Peter had an immediate and overwhelming impulse that he turned into a plan of action. He shifted them so Tony was under him and pressed him to the mattress. He’d avoided leaving marks before, but this time he put his mouth to Tony’s neck, well above his collar, and sucked. Hard.

“At least.” Tony put his hand in Peter’s hair, but didn’t pull him away. “You know I don’t heal as fast as you? That’s going to leave a mark.”

“I know.” Peter started another one just below it.

“Just so we’re on the same page here.” Tony groaned. “If you want, you can use your teeth.”

Peter wanted. Peter wanted so, so much.

~~

(Tony was an hour late to his meeting.)

~~

Peter didn’t hear from Tony that evening. That was fine. Peter knew what he was getting into, had already gotten more than he’d expected. And his life had never revolved around Tony Stark.

Peter had college classes, patrol, his own personal lab time. He had his longtime friendship with Ned Leeds, his casual friendships with his classmates, and his close relationship with his Aunt May. Peter had a life. Tony had always been an important part of it, but not a significant percentage of his everyday hours.

That wasn’t going to change just because Tony was fucking him now.

~~

Tony called the next day between classes. “What are you doing tonight?”

 _You, please,_ Peter thought, but kept it to himself.

“I have a study group dinner at 4:30, but I’m free after that,” Peter said.

“Hm. Dinner’s out, then, but did you want to come over anyway?”

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll see you, what, at seven?” Tony sounded distracted. Peter could hear the slap of his patent leather soles against stone flooring. “Later? Earlier?”

“Better make it eight.” Peter ran his hand along the strap of his backpack, tried to keep himself grounded. “We have midterms coming up, and it’ll take me time to get there.”

“Okay, honey. See you then.”

Peter closed his eyes. He’d heard Tony say the _exact same thing_ to Pepper any number of times. Throat tight, Peter confirmed, “See you then.”

~~

Peter fixed his hair in the reflection of the elevator’s metal doors. He felt like he was fifteen again, sweaty-palmed and excited, about to watch the big game with Mr. Stark. He remembered how that had turned out, a party he’d missed most of and which Tony hadn’t even bothered showing up to. Peter knew better. _He knew better_. He was at a nine, all nervy anticipation, and he needed to be at a two, three at the most. He needed to temper his expectations.

The elevator doors opened on Tony’s beaming face. He pulled Peter into a kiss, open-mouthed and energetic.

“I have been looking forward to this all day,” Tony said, going straight for Peter’s belt.

Peter dropped his backpack and clenched his fists in the back of Tony’s shirt, immediately on board and along for the ride.

~~

They always said the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. Tony was making a good attempt at getting over Pepper with Peter. As for Peter? He’d worry about that when he got there.

~~

The problem was that it was easy to pretend, and his stupid, lust-fogged brain made it easy to get confused, to take Tony’s sweet nothings at face value instead of as the automatic patter of someone who had picked up on Peter’s praise kink early on and had decided to go all in on compliments.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Tony said as he pushed into Peter, who was on his hands and knees in the center of Tony’s bed. “Smart, sweet, funny, sexy—you’re the whole package. All that and superpowers? It’s not fair. No one else could compete.” He nipped at the shell of Peter’s ear. “I don’t know why I ever worried about this, when you’re the one who’s ruined me for all others.”

“Too much,” Peter said. It wasn’t believable. “Dial it back.”

Tony kissed where he’d bitten. “Okay. Whatever you want.” His hands were light at Peter’s hips. He was moving slow, _slow_ , killing Peter as he slowed it down even more. “Talk to me. Tell me how you want it.”

“Don’t be so nice to me,” Peter said.

“Is this your way of saying go harder?” Tony’s hands tightened. “Or that you’re up for something a bit rougher?”

“I’m up for anything,” Peter said. Anything but letting himself fall impossibly further in love with Tony. He was doing that, but that was something he was trying to hold back from, not dive into feet-first.

“Getting mixed signals here,” Tony muttered to himself, but then he was going harder, faster. “Like that?”

Peter nodded. He said, “You can go harder.”

“Oh, can I?” Tony’s fingers dug bruises into Peter’s hips. The bed shook with the weight of their bodies. Tony went harder. The slap of their flesh together echoed. “That,” Tony’s breath came in short bursts between his words, “hard enough for you, kid?”

“ _Ah_ , yes, sir,” Peter managed to get out. Tony made a sound, wordless and wanting, and Peter said, “Please, sir. Please, Mr. Stark.”

“Ruined me,” Tony gasped out, and it was almost believable.

Almost. Peter knew better.

~~

That kind of set the tone.

~~

“So when you said you wanted me to … not be nice to you,” Tony said later, tracing the fading marks from his fingers on Peter’s hips, “what, exactly, does that entail?”

“What do you want it to?” Peter asked. Tony’s chest made a nice pillow. It was early yet, but Peter was tempted to drift off, let go of his worries for a while yet and hope for more dreamless sleep.

“I asked you first.”

Peter hummed. “Whatever you’d like it to.”

“That’s cheating.” Tony brought a hand up, ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I just want to make you happy.”

“I’m happy,” Peter said. It wasn’t a lie. He was feeling a lot of things. Happy was one of them.

“How about we play it by ear?”

“Sounds good to me.” That was Peter’s plan for being the rebound. The song would play out soon enough, but he was willing to improvise along the way.

~~

They weren’t dating, but they’d been—seeing each other? Involved? Having passionate and improbably hot sex? Whatever they’d been doing, they’d been doing it for a few weeks when Tony called Saturday morning and said, “I know I said I wanted to see you this weekend, but I’m stuck at the office today. I have maybe thirty minutes for lunch, but that’s it. We’re acquiring another company, and I _thought_ ,” his voice dropped, annoyed, “everything was handled, but apparently everyone actually needs hand holding, and Pepper’s on vacation, so she can’t do it. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll make it out of the building without something going up in flames.”

“Then why don’t I come over there?” Peter asked. “I can bring sandwiches. We can have lunch at your office.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked. Peter wondered if this was Tony’s way of saying not to come, but he continued, “Did you want me to put in an order anywhere? It can be whatever you want. Wherever you want it from.”

“I’ll just get the sandwiches,” Peter said. “My treat. What do you want on yours?”

Peter showed up at Tony’s office with pastrami on rye. Tony had a new assistant, an old battle axe of a woman who waved him past with a bored expression. Peter locked the door behind him. Tony glanced up from his computer screen with an expression of relief.

“Peter! It’s so nice to see you, not least because you’re not Legal for the fifth time this morning.”

“It’s afternoon now,” Peter said.

“Time has ceased to hold meaning for me.” Tony stood and stretched. Peter came around the desk with the brown paper bag, and Tony leaned in for a quick kiss. “Put it on the desk. Let me grab one of the visitor’s chairs. Tell me how your day’s going.”

“Actually.” Peter caught Tony’s wrist in one hand. He put the bag of sandwiches on the desk. “I was thinking you could eat while you work, after I’m gone.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? And what would we be doing instead of eating?”

“I don’t know what you would be doing.” Peter gently pushed Tony back into his chair. “Maybe you could get a little more work done.”

“And you?” Tony was smiling. His eyes were already darkening. It was obvious he knew exactly where this was headed.

“I’ll be having lunch.” Peter knelt on the thin carpet of Tony’s office floor at Tony’s feet. Tony spread his knees. Peter took up the space between them.

“No sandwiches for you?” Tony asked.

“Didn’t sound appealing,” Peter said. He put his hands on Tony’s thighs.

“Never let it be said I’d have you go without.” Tony reached down and undid his belt. He unzipped his pants, then popped the button. Tony licked his lips as he drew himself out. “Well? What are you waiting for? Bon appetit.”

Peter went for it, taking Tony in his mouth until he hit the back of Peter’s throat. Peter relaxed his throat and took Tony down further. Part of him, as always, was unable to believe this was happening, that he really was allowed to touch Tony like this. The rest of him was anchored in the moment, enjoying the feeling of Tony rocking up into him, the sting of it as Tony pulled his hair.

“You’re so good at this,” Tony said. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for it. How are you this good at everything? You have to have some sort of weak point, but you’d never think it to look at you. You’re perfect.”

Peter’s face burned as Tony used his hair like handholds. He couldn’t tell Tony to stop being nice to him this time, because his mouth was full, and Tony wasn’t bothering to be gentle about it, treating Peter’s mouth like a glorified fleshlight.

“I thought today was going to be awful—today _has_ been awful—but then you showed up, and you’re like—you’re like a ray of sunshine, every time. You’re the thrill of discovery and the joy of tinkering and—and—you’re just every good thing, rolled into one glorious human being I’m lucky enough to know, much less—”

Peter hummed, and Tony cut off with a choking sound. Peter made a choking noise of his own as Tony’s next thrust was harder than he’d expected.

“I adore you,” Tony said, and Peter knew it didn’t mean anything, knew people would say anything in the middle of sex, but he felt the warmth of it from head to toe, suffusing him with a heat that had nothing to do with lust. “I, ah, I— _Peter_. Oh, kid.”

Tony came down Peter’s throat with a sigh. His tight grip on Peter’s hair loosened. He petted at the back of Peter’s head as Peter drew back.

“How was that?” Tony asked.

“Better than pastrami,” Peter said, voice rough. He wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve, cleaning up where he’d drooled down his chin.

“Get up here.” Tony grabbed at Peter’s shirt, and Peter followed the pull right into Tony’s lap, meeting Tony’s mouth with his own. Peter’s jaw ached. His lips felt hot and swollen. Tony kissed it better. He kissed every inch of Peter’s face. “This is the best lunch break of my life.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Mr. Stark? It’s Legal again.”

“Kind of busy!” Tony called back.

“It’s important.”

“They say that every time!”

“It’s true every time.”

“That is true,” Tony said to Peter. He looked regretful. “I’ll make it up to you?”

Peter kissed Tony one last time. “Talk to Legal. Eat your lunch. It’s not like you haven’t given me way more orgasms than I’ve given you.”

“It’s not a competition,” Tony said.

“Isn’t it?” Peter asked with a grin.

“Then am I winning or losing?”

“Mr. Stark?” The person at the door knocked again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Peter said. He stood.

“Or you could let yourself into the penthouse, and I could see you tonight whenever I finally get this mess sorted.”

“I don’t have a key.”

“Take mine. It’s in the jacket by the door.” Tony was looking down, zipping himself back in. It was a good thing. He couldn’t see the expression on Peter’s face in the instant before Peter got it back under control.

“I—yeah, okay.” Peter took the key.

He got looks from both the person at the door and the battle axe of an assistant, but he didn’t care. Everything he’d been doing was written all over his face and the wreck of his hair, but he’d wear it all as a badge of pride. He didn’t feel any shame over it.

He was happy. _He was happy_.

And if sometimes he was unbearably sad, too, well, it balanced.

~~

Another couple weeks passed. Peter couldn’t help wondering when the other shoe would drop, when Tony would be ready to move on. He’d thought he’d kept it to himself pretty well, but in the middle of another sleepless sleepover, Tony confronted him about it, padding into the kitchen where Peter was helping himself to herbal tea to see if it would help him sleep. Tony took over, making enough for both of them.

Tony stood at the breakfast bar, turning his mug of tea around and around. Peter sipped at his own.

“You’re not happy.” The words were abrupt. Tony looked upset himself. “What can I do? Tell me, and I’ll do it. I know it’s not the Iron Man thing. You love the Iron Man thing, and that’s the one thing, the only thing, I’ve never been able to give up. Whatever else it is, whatever it is I’m doing wrong, I can fix it. Let me fix it.”

“It’s not something you did.” Peter put his mug down.

“Then is it—is there anything I can do?”

“It’s not you.” Peter smiled mirthlessly that he had to say this. “It’s me.”

Tony’s own laugh was harsh. He set his mug down next to Peter’s. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that it’s always me.”

“Not this time,” Peter said.

Tony leaned forward and pulled Peter into his arms. “Just. Please. If there’s anything I can do to help, tell me.”

“You’re already doing everything you can,” Peter reassured him.

Tony dropped a kiss on the top of Peter’s head. “If all I can do is hold you, then I’m happy to do that, too.”

“I know.” Peter didn’t tell Tony that actually that was making it worse. Instead, he nuzzled into Tony’s shoulder, drank in the feeling of Tony’s arms around his body, the sharp scent of his cologne, the way Tony cared, even if it wasn’t enough, wasn’t in quite the right way. He repeated, “I know.”

~~

Tony was more careful with Peter after that. He shepherded Peter back to bed and tucked him in. It was Friday night, and Tony said, “Stay the weekend. Whatever it is that’s bothering you—take a break.”

It wasn’t a break to stay there, but Peter took it anyway.

When he woke up, Tony was more than happy to have sleepy morning sex with him, but he was sweet about it. He took Peter apart with whisper soft kisses, with hushed words spoken in a reverent tone, with hands that touched firmly, but gently.

Peter didn’t think it would last forever—he didn’t think any of this would last forever—but he thought the odd stalemate they’d entered would last a little longer than the weekend. Tony went to the kitchen to put together breakfast, and Peter took a shower. When he got out, he found Tony was seated at the kitchen table with a plate of steaming, untouched pancakes beside him. He had the feed pulled up from their first time together, hovering as a holographic above his tablet. He looked sick.

“You know, I thought maybe—I thought this was a good thing, that I could cheer you up the way you’ve always—I thought it was a good thing. I was going to make an actual tape, mix together shots from a few different angles, maybe add a soundtrack. And if you were feeling better before it was ready for its cinematic debut, I figured I could save it for our six month anniversary.” Tony stabbed a finger at the paused image the holographic had pulled up. “I thought this was a good thing, what we have, but, Peter, you’re crying in this. The very first time we—and I made you cry.” He looked up. “Did you even want this? Did I—did I do something to make you think you needed to—” Tony looked horrible. He looked haunted.

“Tony, no. Of course I—” Peter reached a hand out, but Tony flinched, and Peter dropped it before it could connect. “Of course I wanted this. I’ve always wanted this.”

“Then why were you crying?” Tony’s voice was quiet. All his anger was directed inward. He looked like he was imploding. “And how _the hell_ did I not notice?”

Peter dropped into the seat beside Tony. Time to come clean, as awkward and as humiliating as it was to be saying this. “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said. “It’s not going to get you out of this conversation to repeat an earlier one.”

Tony _knew_? And—

“What do you mean, repeat an earlier one?”

“You know, ‘it’s mutual.’ I mean, I knew before that. I wouldn’t have started this if I hadn’t been sure that it wasn’t just a crush anymore.” Tony rubbed at his eyes. “And you’re successfully getting us off topic. You _cried_. And those don’t look like happy tears.”

“It’s not off topic,” Peter said, feeling distant from himself with the words “it’s mutual.” “It’s—it’s mutual?”

Tony looked up. The sad horror and the self-loathing that had been present were sliding away in favor of confusion that was slowly clearing. “Yes? I—yes. It’s mutual. It’s been mutual.”

“But we haven’t even—you weren’t—we’ve barely—” Peter was finding it difficult to form whole sentences, stumbling over his words.

“Peter, what, exactly, do you think is going on here?”

“I’m your rebound,” Peter said blankly.

“In the most technical sense, that’s true.” The confusion had cleared entirely. Some self-recrimination had returned, along with something darkly amused. “Yeah, we started dating after Pepper and I broke it off for the last time, but that was a long time coming, and it wasn’t the first time we broke up. Just the first time neither of us were broken up about it.”

“We’re dating?” Peter asked. Something complicated passed across Tony’s face, but was quickly shunted away.

“Yes, we’re dating, though apparently I’m terrible at it if you have to ask.” Tony stood up. He crowded into Peter’s space. “You’re not a rebound. At least, you’re not just a rebound.” He touched Peter’s jaw with the tips of his fingers. “If it’s not clear, I’m terribly in love with you. Have been for a while. It’s just that finally I was single enough to act on it, and even then, you got there first. _I_ was going to wait a reasonably classy amount of time and then woo you—the whole nine yards, knock your socks off—but then you jumped me in the middle of lab time.”

“You’re in love with me?” Peter’s voice wobbled. He was echoing Tony, but he couldn’t help it, confused and filling up with hope, sharp-toothed and hungry.

“I knew it was my fault,” Tony said and then he was kissing Peter, soft presses of his lips, the slightest hint of tongue. He carded his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Yes, you idiot. I’m in love with you.”

“You should be nicer to me,” Peter said, feeling shaky, like he was at the end of a hard fight instead of in the middle of a dream come true. “We’re dating.”

“Honey, I will be whatever you want me to be.” Tony pressed another kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Just talk to me.”

“Okay,” Peter said. He buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Tony folded his arms around Peter. He held him while the pancakes grew cold.

“I love you so much,” Peter whispered.

Rubbing Peter’s back, not seeming to mind repeating himself, Tony said it back to him.

~~

On their sixth month anniversary, Tony said, “What do you think about actually making a sex tape? Properly this time.”

“You know me.” Peter grinned at Tony and put down the tool he’d been holding. “I’m up for anything.”

“Yeah.” Tony’s own smile was much softer. He picked up Peter’s hand and kissed the back of it. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

When it came to Tony Stark, Peter would take what he could get. Fortunately for Peter, that was everything.


End file.
